


the kids are not alright

by pagan_mint



Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 3, Far Cry 4
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe - Babysitters, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Gen, I'm living, Kid Fic, M/M, Major canon divergence, Modern AU, Multi, You've been warned, the Aest of U's, this is not crack but it is fun, yalung is a demon cat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2018-10-15 08:30:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10553262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pagan_mint/pseuds/pagan_mint
Summary: someone please help the kids**discussed in depth and plotted at length since summer 2016, "fc4 babysitter au" makes its grand debut on Ay Oh Three dot com. please enjoy





	1. what do you mean you've never seen the lion king

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to thank the Academy, and also AO3 user Nactmerrie, who has spent the better part of a year helping me craft and raise this story from a simple "what if" via late-night Skype chat to whatever this is, or will be. (I was also promised smutty oneshot spinoffs, but it has yet to be seen if that will come to fruition.)
> 
> The title was nabbed from a Fall Out Boy song (that I haven't listened to lol), and deviates from my traditional title formatting because I wanted my multichap fic titles to be distinct from my oneshot titles!

“Heyyy, Ajay! Great job in class discussion today, man. Anyway, are you hitting up that sicknasty party later? Everyone’s going!”

Ajay smiled, stifling a chuckle as he slipped his laptop back into his bag. “You don’t have to say stuff like ‘sicknasty,’ Rabi. We’re not on the air.”

Rabi Ray Rana, a popular DJ for the college radio station and one of Ajay’s close friends - one of Ajay's only friends - rolled his eyes. “Whatever, man. Are you coming? It’s gonna be great! I’m doing the music, and there’ll be hot chicks.”

Standing up, Ajay slung his bag over his shoulder and shook his head. “Sounds like a good time, but I can’t.”

“Oh, come _on_ ,” Rabi groaned knowingly. “You’re not going to _babysit_ again, are you? Man, you’re 19! You’ve been doing this for a year now, tell him to buzz off so you can find another job!”

“Mr. Min needs me,” Ajay said firmly. “He’s very busy, and it would take him a lot of time to find another sitter he could trust.”

“But he needs you, like, _all_ the time,” Rabi groaned. “Isn’t that bad parenting? Shouldn’t he stay at home with his kids once in a while?”

“He can’t help it. He’s a CEO, Rabi, that means he has a lot on his plate. Besides,” Ajay said sternly as Rabi opened his mouth to protest, “I like it.”

“Dude, no one _likes_ work!”

“I don’t really see it as work,” Ajay told him, checking his phone. “Okay, I gotta run.”

“Aaaaaajaaaaaayyyyyyyy,” Rabi whined. “Come _on_ , man. You’re _cool_. If you show up, that makes _me_ look cool. Looking cool gets me _laid_. Take one for the team, bro!”

Ajay ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Look, if it’s that big of a deal, I’ll text you when I get off work. If the party’s still going, I’ll stop by. Okay?”

Rabi beamed and made a circle with his index finger and thumb. “Okay! See you later!”

“ _Maybe_ ,” Ajay shouted after him, but the DJ was already gone. Groaning, the college student pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered to himself.

“I’m gonna have to stop for coffee.” 

* * *

 

One stop at Starbucks later (basic black coffee and one overly friendly barista who wrote her number on Ajay’s cup instead of his name), Ajay brought his junker of a car to a halt in front of a pair of elaborate cast-iron gates. Before he could lean out of his window to announce himself in the microphone, the gates were swinging open, and there was a voice coming through the speaker.

“Ajay! Bless you for always being on time, my boy. Actually, you’re a little early, aren’t you? Anyway, never mind, come come come. The twins are - darling, stop tugging on my suit, you’ll wrinkle it - look, I’ll have to see you at the door, there’s a mounting riot on my hands.”

Stifling a laugh, Ajay pulled through into what was less of a driveway and more of an elaborate courtyard. He parked his car in front of the steps leading up to the double front doors and got out, handing his keys to a well-dressed man who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

“Thanks,” Ajay told him, and added guiltily, “Sorry it’s such an eyesore.”

“Mr. Ghale, I don’t park your car in the garage because it’s an eyesore,” the valet told him gravely. “Parking the cars of visitors is my job. Mr. Min wants your car to stay dry and warm in the garage, like that of any other guest.”

“Well… thanks anyway,” Ajay reiterated, rounding the car and heading up the steps.

He hadn’t touched the doors before one was pulled open and four small hands were grabbing at his, pulling him into a spacious foyer well-lit by a skylight.

“Ajay! Come on, I want to show you - ”

“Ajay, Ajay! Dad got us - ”

“Good evening, Ajay." The voice from the speaker spoke over the clamor of the two higher ones, and the college student looked up to see Pagan Min descending the nearby staircase. “Thank you ever so much for coming on such comparatively short notice. I know it’s Friday, so I’m sure you have plans, and I wouldn’t have called you except that it’s apparently imperative that I be present at this banal event - ”

“It’s alright, Mr. Min,” Ajay interrupted him. The man gave him a disgruntled look.

“Dear boy, how many times must I tell you to call me Pagan? ‘Mr. Min’ sounds ridiculous. I was never a fan of alliteration.” He stopped abruptly, patting at the pockets of his suit. “Oh, Lord, where’s my phone - ?”

“It’s right here, sir.” Gary, Pagan Min’s personal assistant, came down the stairs and handed him a smartphone that was slender and metallic and probably not available on the market for another five months. “You left it upstairs.”

Before Pagan could thank him, one of the children spoke up. “Daddy, you should leave already.”

“Sabal,” Pagan exclaimed, startled.

“Yeah, Daddy, it’s time to go. Ajay’s here now, we don’t need you to stick around.”

This time, it was Ajay who did the scolding. “Amita, that’s rude. Your father is working very hard to make money so that you can live a good life. Now, give him a hug, both of you.”

“He doesn’t like hugs,” Sabal said. “He says they wrinkle his clothes - ”

“He can live with a few wrinkles,” Ajay told him sternly. “Go on.”

The twins looked resentful, but did as they were told. Pagan smiled and kissed them both on top of the head; this proved to be unpopular, with both eight-year-olds making disgruntled noises and squirming out of his grasp.

“Daddy, _leave_ ,” Amita shrilled. Straightening up, Pagan shook his head and stepped toward Ajay.

“Well, good luck,” he said, shaking the younger man’s hand. “I’m not sure when I’ll be back, but I promise you’ll be compensated if it takes too long.”

“Don’t worry about it, Mr. - Pa - sir,” Ajay said, tripping a little over what to call him. “Stay out as long as you want. We’ll be fine.”

“Sir, we really do need to be going,” Gary insisted. Pagan groaned and moved toward the open doors.

“Alright, I’m coming, I’m coming. Goodbye - and good luck,” he added wryly, making a tsking noise as Gary placed a hand in the small of his back in an attempt to usher him out the door. “I am _on_ my _way_! Lord, the car isn’t even out yet - oh, there it is. Now, the agenda…”

As the doors shut behind him, hands grabbed at Ajay again and tried to pull him in two opposite directions.

“Come on! I wanna show you how I decorated my room - ”

“Ajay, Ajay, wait until you see what’s in the living room - ”

“Hold on,” Ajay said loudly, and both twins froze. “I think you’re both forgetting the first, most important piece of business.” Crouching down to their level, he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, arching his eyebrows suspiciously at a passing maid. “Golden Path, report. How is Kyrat?” 

* * *

 

Kyrat, Pagan Min had lamented to Ajay when they first met, was going to be his downfall.

“It’s their - imaginary kingdom, or something,” he told Ajay, who was working part-time tending the open bar at the college event Pagan was attending. It had something to do with honoring scholarship students and their sponsors; ironically, Ajay was one of the students being honored, but he needed money too badly to not be working. Recognizing him from the slideshow, Pagan had come over to interrogate him, which had turned into a couple of martinis and a conversation. “Kyrat, they call it. Got the name from here - Kyrat University. Anyway, apparently I’m the ‘evil dictator’ - ” the words were accompanied by scare quotes that very nearly had the bleached-blonde man spilling his drink. “ - and they need to free it from my distant and tyrannical rule.”

“That’s probably just kid stuff,” Ajay said encouragingly. “I’m sure they love you.”

“Are you? That’s good to hear, because I’m not,” the older man said wryly. “To hear them tell, I’m an oppressive monarch who is never home and constantly hiring awful people to make their lives hell. Babysitters,” he clarified at Ajay’s confused look. “Nannies. Anyone who can keep an eye on them and provide them with the one-on-one attention I would desperately love to give myself, but simply don’t have the time for with my schedule. And I _know_ ,” he continued before Ajay could even get a word in edgewise, “believe me, I know that children are not accessories and I should be prepared to make sacrifices for them and be there for them as much as possible. And I promise that I am trying, but of course if my company goes bankrupt, they’ll be even worse off than they already think they are. They’ll be _poor_ , and even more lonely because I’ll be gone even _more_ looking for a way to make money to survive on a day-to-day basis, and then they’ll _really_ hate me - ”

“You sound like a great father,” Ajay said as the older man broke off to take a breath. “If you weren’t, you would be out there mingling with everyone instead of over here at the bar, worrying about your kids. I’m sure they know you love them, or they wouldn’t give you a hard time about being busy all the time. If they really hated you, you’d know about it.”

He didn’t realize the bitter tone his words had taken on until Pagan murmured,

“Speaking from personal experience, are we?”

Ajay flushed, embarrassed to have unloaded anything personal on a stranger - much less one of the primary sponsors of his community college. “I - I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to - do you want another drink?” he deflected.

“Yes, please, though if you could make it a water this time that would be lovely. I try to avoid getting tipsy at these kind of events, you know. Any slip in cognitive functions results in some fairly innocent-looking woman taking you to the side for a brief chat, and before you know it you’ve donated half your income to some obscure fund. What were we talking about?” he asked as Ajay returned with the requested water. “Ah, Kyrat. Did you know they’ve even come up with a name for their little rebellion? They call themselves the ‘Golden Path.’” He snorted. “Little terrorists, is what they are. They run off everyone I hire to watch them, insist they’re not taking ‘the cause’ seriously enough. And of course, by now, word’s gotten around in the field and no nanny in their right mind will work for me.” He accepted the water Ajay handed him with a grateful nod, raising an eyebrow at the lemon slice wedged onto the rim. “Are you sure this isn’t too fancy?” he asked, his tone slightly sardonic. “Though perhaps I’ve grown jaded after a few too many budget meetings.”

“No, uh, it’s not something we normally offer,” Ajay said, nervously rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. “But there’s a kid near where I live who sells lemonade, and he doesn’t make much off the drink, so I buy his extra lemons. It helps him out and gives me something extra to offer customers.” While he had been speaking, he had been creating and shaking a mixed drink; now he stopped in mid-shake as he caught the look that Pagan was giving him. “Wh - what? What is it? Oh, no. Are you allergic to lemons, to citrus? I’m so sorry, I should have asked before - ”

“Come work for me,” Pagan interrupted him, leaning over the bar. “Any young man charming enough to go out of his way to assist a young entrepreneur in his neighborhood must be able to win over the hearts of my hellion children. Even if you can’t, I beg of you to _try_ , at the very least.”

Ajay stared at him for a moment before smiling. “I would love to! I, um, my schedule is a little packed, though. When would you need me? I’m mostly available in the evenings this semester - er, well, except for gigs like this, so - ”

“Evenings are perfect,” Pagan said warmly. “Are you available the day after tomorrow, around 5 PM?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Ajay told him, pulling his phone out of his back pocket. “Let me check my calendar real quick… yeah, I can make that! I’ll just need directions to your house.” 

* * *

 

Back in the modern day, Ajay stood frozen in the upstairs hallway, Pagan Min’s children cowering behind him and clutching at the fabric of his pants.

“Ajay, _do_ something,” Sabal whimpered. Amita let out a small scoff of derision.

“You’re such a ‘fraidy-cat,” she sneered.

“Amita, be nice,” Ajay murmured. “You’re hiding too.”

Feeling left out of the conversation, the cat crouching in front of them let out a malicious hiss. It was inordinately large for a domestic feline, even for a Maine Coon; one of its ears was missing, and its left eye was permanently shut. Its right eye, on the other hand, was wide open, and spat seething hatred at the small squadron blocking its path.

Until Ajay shooed the children away, crouched down, and sharply said “Yalung, behave!”

The hiss cut itself off and turned into an apologetic purr, the cat’s remaining ear flicking forward in apology. What had been a threatening crouch turned into an entreating wriggle across the floor, the feline rubbing its neck and chin along Ajay’s foot when it reached him.

“I still can’t believe he likes you,” Sabal whispered as Ajay scooped the cat up in his arms. “Yalung hates everyone.”

“Yeah,” Amita piped up. “He doesn’t even like Auntie Yuma, and he’s _her_ cat.”

“Listen to me,” Ajay said, holding the cat at arm’s length. Rather than struggle, the giant animal hung patiently from his grasp, letting him do what he liked with it. “Leave Amita and Sabal alone, okay? They’re the leaders of the Golden Path. They have very important things to do, and they can’t do them if you’re bothering them constantly.” So saying, he gave the cat a sharp nod and dropped it back to the floor. It seemed entirely unfazed, immediately wrapping itself around Ajay’s feet and rubbing its chin up to the back of his knee.

“What do you guys wanna do now?" he asked. "You’ve had dinner, and we dealt with Yalung - I think it’s time for a propaganda mission.”

Amita wrinkled her nose. “We learned in school today that propaganda is a bad thing.”

“Well, yeah,” Ajay agreed, absently taking Sabal’s hand as the young boy curled his fingers in with their babysitter’s. “But it’s not called a propaganda mission because we’re _spreading_ propaganda; it’s called that because we’re tearing it down. The world is a bad place, full of bad messages, so this is our way of fighting back against all that nasty propaganda - ”

“He wants to watch a Disney movie,” Sabal interrupted. Amita fixed Ajay with an accusatory stare, and the college student actually felt himself blush.

“Okay - okay, you got me. But I can’t believe you guys don’t like Disney movies!” he exclaimed. “What kind of 8-year-olds are you?”

“Cultured ones,” Sabal responded, pulling Ajay toward the stairwell. Amita nodded.

“Daddy doesn’t pay good money for us to go to an expensive school so that we can rot our brain cells by watching animated films intended for a pedestrian audience,” she told him. Ajay groaned.

“First of all, you shouldn’t know half those words at your age. I think you’re a little _over_ -educated. Second, ouch. Those ‘pedestrian films’ were my childhood, I’ll have you know. Come on, don’t you guys want to watch _The Lion King_?”

Sabal snorted, which was a strange affectation to see in a child of his age. “If you want to see a production of _Hamlet_ , I’m sure Daddy could get us tickets - ”

“Alright, that’s it,” Ajay huffed, scooping Sabal up in his arms and trotting down the stairs. “I’m the babysitter, so I get to make the rules. I don’t want a formal theatrical experience, I want to watch Hakuna Matata and eat popcorn.”

“Popcorn?” Sabal, who didn’t appreciate being manhandled, stilled his struggles.

“Daddy never lets us eat popcorn,” Amita piped up, her voice full of hope. “He says there’s no nutritional value in it.”

“We don’t even have any in the house,” Sabal added, the excitement beginning to drain from his voice. Ajay carried him into the living room and plopped him down on the sofa, then began to rummage around in his backpack.

“Fortunately for you guys,” he announced triumphantly, pulling out both a Blu-Ray copy of _The Lion King_ and a tin of Jiffy Pop, “I always come prepared.” 

* * *

 

Ajay woke up with a start at the clamor of high-pitched voices, unaware that he had dozed off to begin with. Flinging off a blanket that he had no recollection of putting on himself, he indulged in a brief catlike stretch before getting up and making his way towards the source of the noise.

“...made us watch _The Lion King_ ,” Sabal was saying. “It was boring, basically _Hamlet_ like you said. But Ajay liked it! He sang almost all the songs.”

“And we had popcorn! He said it would be okay, just once. It was so cool, Daddy, it came in this makeshift pan and we put it right on the stove and got to watch it pop! It didn’t taste very good, though, so Ajay ate most of it.”

“I think it was his dinner,” Sabal whispered conspiratorially. “Daddy, we don’t think he’s eating very much, or sleeping.”

“Yeah, he fell asleep! He never does that when he’s watching us. So we decided to let him sleep - ”

“Thanks for that,” Ajay interrupted smoothly, smiling at the twins when they gave him a wide-eyed stare of surprise. “But you should  have woken me up. I’m supposed to take care of you, remember? Not the other way around. I’m sorry I fell asleep,” he added, making eye contact with Pagan Min very briefly before looking away again. “It won’t happen again.”

Pagan was silent for a moment; then he said, “Ajay, may I speak with you privately?”

Dread swelled in Ajay’s chest and clawed its way into his throat, making it impossible for him to breathe; after a moment, he fought past it and nodded.

“Yes, sir,” he said, his voice very quiet. As Pagan led the way towards the stairs, the twins exchanged a concerned look, then tried to intervene.

“Daddy, he didn’t mean it,” Sabal piped up.

“Yeah, he didn’t mean it!” Amita clamored. “Daddy, please - ”

Ajay didn’t hear any more after that, the children hushed and ushered away by Gary as the college student followed Pagan to the second floor and then into his study. The bleach blonde waved Ajay to a chair, waited until he was seated before closing the door with a fatalistic _click_.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Ajay apologized bleakly for the second time, thinking it better to head things off at the pass. “I understand entirely. My actions were inexcusable - ”

“Dear boy, they were nothing of the sort,” Pagan said, cutting him off entirely. Ajay stared at him.

“I - what? No, they were. You put me in charge of your children’s well-being, and I - ”

“It’s true that the twins are obscenely precocious, and perhaps too intelligent for their age. But those things combined mean that they’re more capable of taking care of themselves than most other children their age. My house is also gated, guarded, and well-populated with staff.” Pagan crossed the room and laid a hand on Ajay’s shoulder, frowning when the student flinched from his touch. “ _Your_ job is not to supervise Amita and Sabal, so much as it is to provide them with companionship and guidance. You are a busy young man, Ajay, but more than that, you are an absolute gift to me and my family.” Ajay’s cheeks burned, and he tried to say something, but Pagan shook his head. “No, no, be quiet and let me compliment you. I understand perfectly well that you are busy, and more than that, probably tired. You have done wonderful work for me, and I would hardly cut you loose for one accidental nap.” He inhaled sharply, stepping back and meeting Ajay’s gaze. “Do you understand?”

“I… yes?” Ajay managed, sounding desperately uncertain. “So - I’m not in trouble, then?”

Pagan laughed and flung himself into another nearby chair. “Lord, no. You would have to take my children out to a topless bar to be any remote semblance of such a thing. You’ve been their companion and guardian for a year now, dear boy, it would take a gross misstep to shake my trust in you.”

“I’ll - I’ll try to live up to that standard, sir,” Ajay mumbled, not sure what to do with the flagrant affection in Pagan’s words and voice. The older man gazed at him speculatively for a long moment before speaking softly.

“Yet again, you _can_ call me Pagan, you know. We’re not in the military.”

“I know,” Ajay responded faintly, and then the door burst open and the twins came barreling in.

“DADDY, YOU CANNOT FIRE AJAY,” Amita shrieked at the top of her lungs. Sabal, the less vocal but more physical of the twins, kept Ajay from rising from his seat by climbing into his lap and latching his arms around his neck.

Pagan dissolved into laughter, catching Amita before she could dodge out of his reach and pulling her into his arms. “Darling, I won’t do anything of the kind, I assure you.”

Amita glowered at him, failing to share his amusement. “You can’t shout at him, either! Or - or _threaten_ him, like you did with Mr. Hale.”

“Mr. Hale,” Pagan said, his voice going a little stiff, “locked himself in the master suite with his girlfriend. Mr. Hale deserved to be threatened.”*

Ajay laughed, then let out a startled gasp as his phone vibrated in his jacket pocket. Shifting Sabal a little to the left, he pulled it out, grimacing at the message it displayed.

_> AJ, bro, it’s almost 10. U comin? Choice selection of chicks!!!_

“Ugh,” he grumbled, and then his phone buzzed again, flashing another message.

_> And I guess they need help w/ security. Easy money._

Never one to sneeze at a chance to make extra cash, Ajay tucked his phone back into his pocket. “Is it okay if I head out?” he asked, a little unnerved to find Pagan and Amita both watching him intently. “An opportunity’s come up.”

“Lord, are you still working multiple jobs? If you’d just let me pay you more - ” Pagan huffed, pulling out his wallet.

“You want to pay me an exorbitant amount,” Ajay corrected him. “I’m just part-time, not a salaried employee, remember? It’s fine,” he insisted as the other man pouted at him. “I like keeping busy. Besides, if I’m on the clock at a party, it helps keep me out of trouble.”

Pagan’s lips curled up in a catlike smile. “I’m hardly worried about you getting into trouble, dear boy,” he responded. “I’m more worried about trouble getting into you.”

Ajay let out a short bark of surprised laughter, Sabal sliding off his lap as he stood up. “What does _that_ mean?” he asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” Pagan purred, his voice deliberately smug and enigmatic. “I had Gary bring your car around as soon as we returned.” He and the twins had walked with Ajay to the door, and Ajay let out a startled yelp as Pagan caught him up in an embrace.

After only a moment, Pagan released him, putting him at arm’s length and making eye contact. “Be safe, my boy,” he instructed him firmly. “And for God’s sake, eat something.”

Ajay couldn’t help the sheepish smile that he gave in return.

“I will,” he said, and then laughed as Sabal tugged sharply on his pants leg. “Okay, okay, excuse me.” Crouching down, he accepted a tandem embrace from both sides. “You guys are gonna behave, right?”

“Will not behaving mean you come back sooner?” Amita asked plaintively.

“Don’t be rude,” Ajay chastised her. “Your dad’s right here. Besides, he’s plenty busy. You’ll see me again before you know it. Ah - Sabal, you’re choking me,” as the young boy wrapped his arm around Ajay’s throat in an attempt to climb on his back. “I have to go, okay?”

He was rescued from Sabal’s well-intentioned throttling as Pagan swept him up. “If you want to sit on someone’s shoulders, Sabal, sit on mine. Ajay can’t do his other job with you perched on top of him all night.”

Sabal scowled, and Ajay was impressed by how oddly mature the expression made him look. Both children were remarkably attractive, with strong features that made it impossible not to tell how they were feeling at all times; this, Ajay had learned over the past few months, was both a blessing and a curse.

“Goodnight,” he called, and enjoyed a chorus of the returned sentiment as he walked out into the well-lit courtyard. His car was already running, and as he slid into the driver’s side he wasn’t surprised to see his backpack neatly installed in the passenger seat. He was equally unsurprised to see the corner of an envelope full of money peeking out from the partially unzipped main pocket; Gary was very good at his job. Ajay would have returned it, but he knew it wouldn't be accepted, so he simply sighed and tucked it gratefully into the depths of his bag.

The light from the open front door remained in his rear-view mirror even as he went through the gate and down the driveway, and only disappeared from view once he had turned onto the main road. 

* * *

 

The SAC was an unfortunate acronym for the Student Activity Center, resulting in many inappropriate jokes that college-age adults should perhaps have been above making. The university hadn’t seemed to recognize their mistake until hosting a dance event called “Hop in the SAC,” which was abruptly cancelled after several sharp E-mails from parents and more conservative-minded students.

As soon as Ajay walked inside, someone grabbed the sleeve of his jacket and pulled him behind the check-in counter. The SAC was part and parcel of the campus rec center, a facility staffed almost entirely (apart from a few professional adult supervisors) by college students. And, seemingly as a rule - or perhaps as some sort of peculiar initiation ritual - every one of those college students was also a member of the Student Activities Board. The inverse, however, was not true; Ajay had been part of the SAB for a while now, largely because they paid him to work at various events.

“Hey,” he said mildly, letting his assailant strip his jacket off. “What’s up, Banhi?”

“I’ll tell you what’s up,” the dark-skinned young woman said, tossing his jacket over to a student who caught it and toted it over to what was obviously a makeshift coat check. “You’re gonna get out there - where did all this cat fur come from? - and look intimidating, and if you see anyone doing anything frisky, slap ‘em on the wrist. Anything illegal gets them escorted from the building, and _no alcohol_.” She brushed ineffectually at his chest, occasionally stopping to flick cat hairs onto the floor. “Try to look intimidating - this black T-shirt is good, it’s a good start, makes you look a little like a bodyguard - and if you run into any serious trouble, call Pranav or Achal over for backup.”

“Backup,” Ajay said with amusement, glancing over at them. Pranav was the one who had hung up his jacket, an art student who probably weighed a substantial amount only when soaking wet; Achal was manning the student sign-ins clipboard, a lanky outdoor studies major in large square glasses and a stylish scarf. “Okay, sure, if I want them to get beaten up.”

“Hey, they can handle themselves,” Banhi said sharply, while simultaneously widening her eyes at him and nodding in agreement. “Scram. Get out there. Do what you do.”

Ajay wasn’t sure what it was that he did, but he tried to live up to expectations. In addition to depriving him of his jacket and tidying up his shirt, Banhi had also fussed with his hair, pulling some of it down into his face. He resisted the urge to sweep it back as he explored the edge of the dance floor, knowing she’d done it to try and make him look more intimidating. Not that it was strictly necessary, but it never hurt to err on the side of caution.

There was nothing happening on the dance floor apart from a little bumping and grinding that leaned heavily on the line between risque and explicit, but technically he couldn’t do anything unless clothes started coming off or there was an explicit lack of consent. Currently, there was only a threat of the first and an absence of the second, so he gave the dancers a last cursory glance and headed over to inspect the refreshments table.

A small crowd had gathered in the area, which wasn’t unusual in the case of college students and free food. Before Ajay had really even thought about how to navigate it, his attention was distracted by sudden explosive shouting from the center of the crowd.

“No, no, no! NO! You think you can just put your gaudy Kardashian claws on my boyfriend any time you please, _puta_? Back off!”

“Hey, hey,” Ajay snapped, people making way for him as he made a beeline for the source of the disruption. “What’s going on here?”

“What’s going on?” the speaker responded, not bothering to lower his volume. “What’s going _on_ is that this bleached-blonde _bitch_ is putting her lips and hands all over my _boyfriend!"_

Ajay nudged past the final partygoer, letting the speaker finally be revealed. Not that the Hispanic accent and raw voice hadn’t already given it away; he didn’t share many classes with Vaas Montenegro, but the man was a constant fixture on and around the community college campus. His most distinctive feature was his mohawk, a hairstyle he had possessed since time immemorial and would likely maintain until he died; his second most distinctive feature was the jagged scar that cut across the left side of his head and down onto his face, falling just short of his eye. Deep-set eyes rimmed in black and a crisp red tank top were the icing on a high-strung cake; Vaas was built like a jungle cat, usually languid, but still powerful, a tightly coiled spring that he could release whenever he chose. He was about to choose to now, an empty plastic cup crushed in one hand while his teeth ground in his sharply defined jaw. The tank top gave Ajay a clear view of the expanse of his tensed arm and neck muscles, letting him know that Vaas was ready to lunge for his target’s throat at a moment’s notice.

Taking in Vaas’s appearance and emotional state was a matter of a glance for Ajay, allowing him to transfer his attention very quickly to the subject of the English major’s ire. The “bitch” in question was a young woman named Brittani, who was notorious for both her sizable assets and the fact that she was sleeping with the school’s ODS professor. However, the latter did not deter her from being generous with her affections, which had apparently led her to latch onto Vaas’s significant other.

Jason Brody was many things: dating Vaas (on and off - their relationship was more torrid than a hurricane), the son of a rich lawyer, unhealthily pale. His skin was so fair as to almost seem translucent in places, especially in the right (or wrong) lighting; that made the tribal tattoo coating his left arm from wrist to elbow stand out even more than it might otherwise have. He was fit, in a contrived sort of way meant to work with his preferred style of snug V-neck T-shirts. Everything about him shouted “jock” at the top of its lungs, which Ajay found amusing since he had never seen Jason Brody play a sport.

Currently, he was smiling down at Brittani - or rather, at Brittani’s cleavage, which he had a perfect view of thanks to how she was pressed against his side like a particularly curvy limpet. He was holding a cup with a straw in one hand, and as he swirled its contents, Brittani leaned in and closed her lips around the straw.

“‘S not a big deal, Vaas,” Jason drawled, the slur in his voice making it more than apparent that he was at least some level of intoxicated. “I’m just complimenting a hot chick.”

“Yeah, in front of your boyfriend!” Vaas snarled. “And what is that?” he demanded, gesturing vehemently to the straw. “You sharin’ second-hand smooches now too?”

“Oh my God,” Ajay said, and didn’t realize he’d said it out loud until Vaas’s hawk-like gaze fixated on him.

“You got somethin’ to say?” Vaas snapped. Ajay sighed; after all, this was what he’d come over to deal with.

“That’s the kind of thing 8-year-olds say,” he told the shorter man. “I would know, I babysit two of them. They’re just sharing a straw, not making out in front of you. Get over it.”

The audience that had gathered to witness the confrontation, first between Vaas and Jason and now between Vaas and Ajay, visibly drew back. “Get over it” were not words you said to Vaas Montenegro; not if you wanted to remain physically intact, or at least unmutilated.

“What did you say to me?” Vaas demanded, tilting his head to one side and taking a step forward. Ajay didn’t flinch.

“You heard me. I told you to get over it. You’re acting like a child. And frankly, so is your boyfriend,” he added, making Jason’s gaze snap to him from where it had drifted back to Brittani’s impressive assets. “Don’t ruin everyone else’s good time just because you two have issues you need to work out.”

Vaas’s tongue darted out and did a quick circuit around his lips, like he was imagining what Ajay’s jugular vein would taste like if he sank his teeth into it. Brittani pressed closer to Jason’s chest. In the background, faintly audible over the thudding bass of the music playing on the dance floor, Banhi shouted for Pranav and Achal to come running.

Then Vaas laughed, a sound of genuine amusement that still didn’t prevent Ajay from startling back a little as he clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“I can always trust you to get straight to the heart of the matter, _amigo_. You talk sense. You know how to handle yourself. Not like that damn stupid white boy.”

“Hey,” Jason said, drunk but not so drunk that he wasn’t aware that he was being insulted. He moved toward them, pulling away from Brittani, who let him go with a pout and a slight whine. “I know how to handle myself.”

Vaas smiled, teeth glinting like the polished metal jaws of a hunting trap. “Now, Jason. It’s rude to talk about such personal habits in public.”

Jason was already flushed from the alcohol, making his agitation and embarrassment show up as two pale points high on his cheeks. “ _Shut up!_  God, you’re not even one to _talk_.”

“And why’s that, _hermano_?” Vaas purred, every word a targeted barb. “Is it ‘cause you know I know my way around your dick better than Britt-an-i ever could?” He broke the girl’s name into three very distinct syllables, adding a sing-song lilt that made him sound every bit as crazy as Ajay suspected he wanted people to think he was.

“Can you just - just _shut_ the _fuck_ up!” Jason snarled eloquently. He stepped forward, bringing up a clenched fist; acting on instinct, Ajay moved in front of Vaas, slapping a hand on the smaller man’s chest to keep him in place as he swung between the two of them, ready to take the hit.

Jason stopped the punch just before it made contact, his curled fingers lingering an inch from Ajay’s jaw. Ajay stared him down, taking in the wild and glazed look in his eyes, the thin sheen of sweat near his hairline, the muscle spasming in his jaw as he clenched his teeth.

“You need to stand down, Brody,” he said sternly, moving his hand from Vaas’s chest to Jason’s fist and pushing it gently back down to the other man’s side. “You’re making a scene. Go home.”

Something changed in Jason’s demeanour at that; his eyes narrowed, and his lip quirked up in a vicious smirk.

“At least I have a home to go back to,” he said. “Where do you live? Your dying mom’s hospital room? Or maybe with your dad in the loony bin.”

Ajay’s breath caught sharply in his throat, and he felt his cheeks get abruptly hot, then cold just as quickly. Before he could respond, Vaas came up from behind him, crowding him out of the way to confront Jason.

“Hey now, Snow White, that was uncalled for. Ajay is our friend, our amigo. _Comprende?_ ” He shook his head slowly, like he couldn’t believe Jason’s behavior. “ _Dios_ , you’ve got a mouth on you when you’re messed up.”

Jason stepped forward, pushing into the other man’s personal space. “You like my mouth,” he slurred, leaning in and dragging his thumb hard along Vaas’s exposed collarbone. “Want a taste?” He stuck out his tongue, flashing a silver stud that Ajay was sure he hadn’t had during the previous week’s small group discussion of Chaucer.

Vaas made an animalistic sound, snaking an arm around Jason’s waist and pulling the pre-law student’s body flush with his own. His hand unabashedly moved downwards, and as he curled his fingers into Jason’s asscheek, Ajay found himself looking desperately for something else to take his attention. That was when he saw two familiar figures slinking through a door down the hallway - a hallway that had been clearly marked as off-limits for this particular event.

“Okay, crisis averted, excuse me,” he muttered, slipping past an increasingly irate Brittani as he hurried to avert disaster.

One of the double doors to a large walk-in storage closet had almost swung all the way shut before Ajay caught it with the tips of his fingers and pulled it back open.

“ _Ahem_ ,” he said pointedly.”Reginald. Donald.”

“It’s _Yogi_ ,” Donald insisted immediately, his thick British accent giving him an air of sophistication that his undercut and hipster fashion sense failed to provide.

“And only my mum calls me Reginald,” said his friend, who was slightly taller and sported a full head of hair with a beard, but seemed to share the same unfortunate affinity as Yogi for infinity scarves and ill-fitting jackets. “It’s Reggie, mate. We’ve been over this.”

Ajay crossed his arms and leaned against the door, keeping it held open. “Well, _Reggie mate_ , I’m sure two students bright enough to be eligible to come to Kyrat U on international exchange wouldn’t have missed the distinctive signs not ten feet from this door stating NO ENTRY FOR EVENT. Which implies that you deliberately ignored them in order to come in here and engage in illicit activities.”

“‘Illicit’ is a strong word,” Reggie argued, catching a precariously balanced broom before it could fall on him and shifting it to a safer location in the corner. “Besides, we weren’t _trying_ to be sneaky.”

“Yeah,” Yogi chimed in. “Of course we knew you were on duty and would catch us. You’re the only person we’ll share with for free, mate.” In the dim lighting of the closet’s ceiling bulb, he could be seen wiggling a roll of paper invitingly between his fingers. “You’re our recreational partner, Ajay.”

“I’m your test subject,” Ajay said flatly. “And I’m done playing that role. I can’t mess around with you guys anymore. We’re still friends, but I don’t have time to be stoned or try to find my way back from waking up lost in the middle of the city with no recollection of how I got there. I don’t know how you guys are still in school with all the goofing around you do. Aren’t you med students? Shouldn’t you be busy all the time?”

“We don’t really sleep,” Reggie said pleasantly, laying a hand on Ajay’s shoulder. “We cooked up a little something that kind of makes it arbitrary. With how busy you are and all, we’d be more than happy to share -”

“If you bring that syringe any closer to my neck,” Ajay said softly, “I will put you on the ground. And I can’t promise you’ll be able to get back up anytime soon.”

Reggie very abruptly pulled his hand away. “Alright, big boy, settle down. You just - you seem a bit tense, that’s all.”

“Yeah, mate, we’re just trying to help,” Yogi said defensively.

“Well, tonight I’m getting paid to stop you from helping,” Ajay said. Stepping out of the doorway, he held the door open with one hand and beckoned to them with the other. “You can go out and party or you can go home, but you can’t stay here.”

“Here? As in, this closet specifically?” Yogi suggested, a sly smile creeping across his face. It stopped immediately when he saw the look in Ajay’s eyes. “Alright, fine, no closets. We’re leaving. Do all straight-A students have a stick up their arse or is it just you?”

“My arse is none of your business,” Ajay told him tiredly. "Now get outta here."

* * *

 

The remainder of the evening was mostly a blur of boredom as the partygoers settled down to their own devices. Some of them got drunk and left to do other things; some of them, already drunk, made their way to the dance floor, where they stayed out of trouble for the most part. Some of them didn’t get drunk at all, but they got uncomfortable with the people who were drunk and left fairly early on.

“You can head home, you know,” Banhi told him, leaning across the rec center check-in counter. Ajay was prowling back and forth in front of it, keeping an eye on the few remaining partiers on the floor. “I don’t think there’ll be any more trouble. And if there is, the boys can handle it.”

“Mmhmm,” Ajay said distractedly. He was watching Vaas and Jason, who were in the far corner of the dance floor. Jason tugged away from Vaas, spun around, and would have completely lost his balance if the mohawked English major hadn’t caught his arm. A sharp pull sent Jason crashing into Vaas’s chest, making both of them laugh; Vaas tilted his head back as Jason decided to make out with his neck, and Ajay turned his attention to Banhi with a disgusted wrinkle of his nose.

“Sorry, what?”

She gave him a judgemental look. “C’mon, man. What are you. some kind of perv? Or - _wait_ , no, you’re not jonesing for _Brody_ , are you?”

Ajay stared at her for a moment before he could find the words he wanted. “No! Why would you even think that?” he asked, trying to moderate his tone from utter to mild disgust. “I just… I want to stay. I don’t trust either of them. They know I can handle them, so as soon as I leave they’ll probably throw a chair through a window or something.”

Banhi rolled her eyes and reached out to shove him lightly. “Ajay, you’re dead on your feet. They’re way too drunk and into each other right now to start anything.” Both of them glanced back towards the problematic pair just in time to see a broad expanse of Jason’s ribcage as Vaas’s roaming hand pushed his T-shirt up. “See? Gross.”

“I guess I could leave,” Ajay murmured reluctantly. “But I’m crashing at Rabi’s tonight, and it seems like it would be rude to leave without him.”

“My guy, he’ll understand. You’re up at 4 practically every morning for school, homework, a job, and probably five other things I don’t know about. What does Rabi do? Sleep, eat, occasionally attend class, and try to pick up girls.” She snorted. “Like his twink ass is really into that.”

Ajay gave her a sidelong glance, confused. “His what? Rabi’s not gay. I would know, I have to listen to him talk about ‘hot chicks’ all the time.”

“Oh, honey,” Banhi said cheerfully, slapping him on the shoulder. “You’re adorable. Now get outta here, you get touchy when you haven’t had enough sleep.”

“That means you think I’m touchy _all_ the time.”

Banhi arched a knowing eyebrow. “Sweetheart, I promise you I’m not the one who wants to touch you.”

Ajay groaned and stepped away from the counter. “Oh my God, whatever. Fine, you got what you want, I’m leaving. Goodnight. Goodbye.”

“Bye, hon,” Banhi purred after him. “Love you. Be safe. Make good choices. I’ll tell Rabi where you are.”

“Mm-hmm, yeah,” Ajay said, already walking out the door.

Rabi’s apartment was never locked and Ajay was there all the time, but he knocked on the door anyway. After a long moment, he heard footsteps, and then the door swung open towards the inside.

“Stop being so damn polite,” grunted Chotu. Rabi’s roommate was a hulking six-foot-plus mass of dark skin, muscle, gelled hair and an air that implied he was always ready to tackle you given the slightest inclination to do so. He spent most of his time at the gym or playing football; Ajay had a vague recollection of it being mentioned at some point that he was getting a math degree, despite never being seen in class or on campus. He had no idea how Rabi had ended up living with him, but they had been roommates and fast friends for years. “I live with Rana. You could break the window to get in and you’d still be a step up from when he hauls his drunk ass in the door at 3 AM crying over the collapse of his latest fling.”

“Sorry,” Ajay murmured. “Long day. Being polite is my autopilot.”

“Yeah, well, get in here,” Chotu huffed, stepping aside to allow the smaller man entry. “Did you eat? You should eat. I made spaghetti, too much as usual. Eat it or it’ll just go to waste.”

“You make too much food all the time,” Ajay said suspiciously. “One would think you would’ve learned portioning by now.”

“Listen,” Chotu said sharply, “if I don’t feed you, will you eat? You’re constantly busy with something or other, not to mention you still ask before taking stuff _you_ bought out of our fridge. Besides, I learned to always cook extra after living with Rana for a week. He’s like a pack of locusts, encased in human form. Only reason I still share is because if I didn’t let him eat my real food, the kid would subsist on cereal and Red Bull.”

Ajay smiled as he followed Chotu to the dingy apartment kitchen. He liked the time they spent together; the older man wasn’t very talkative when Rabi was around, or even with his girlfriend, whom Ajay had only seen occasionally. But for some reason - perhaps due to the other’s own natural reticence - he became a relative chatterbox when Ajay was around.

The spaghetti, as with everything Chotu deigned to cook, was delicious. Afterwards, they retired to the futon in the apartment’s living room, where Chotu had left the game he’d been playing on pause.

“You don’t mind if I just finish this level?”

“No, absolutely, go ahead,” Ajay insisted, stifling a yawn as he sat down. “It’s your apartment, I’m just here for the night.”

“Cool,” was his only response, and then Chotu lapsed into complete silence as he focused on what was apparently a very difficult level. Ajay stayed awake long enough to register what he was trying to accomplish - it seemed like he was being shot at by a bunch of guys who were upset that he was trying to keep them from blowing up a giant statue.

When he woke up, it was with the suddenness that came with realizing that he should have been awake much sooner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Fun fact: this actually happened to me as a child. My babysitter had her boyfriend come over after my parents were gone and then they went into the master bedroom and shut me out. Afterwards she tried to make me promise not to tell my parents, but I was a Sensitive Child who didn't appreciate being ignored for multiple hours and I sang like a canary
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Please leave a review and let me know what you thought. Kudos are always great, but I prefer reading your words <3 Stay tuned for chapter two!


	2. doing crimes and breaking rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ishwari Ghale, canonically deceased anime mom, found alive in nearby AU hospital! But for how long...??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic?? dead?? I'll die first
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I'm not Chinese and know NO Chinese whatsoever so please hover over the Chinese for my best attempt at hover test and a translation courtesy of Google, our mighty megacorporation overlord. If you are Chinese, speak Chinese, or both, and would like to correct my translation, please feel free!
> 
> anyway sorry for the ludicrous delay. I was so focused on this piece being Perfect(TM) that I kind of forgot to actually have fun with it, so now I'm trying to get back in the groove. bless y'all for sticking around <3

After a moment of fumbling for his phone, Ajay learned that he had forgotten to set his alarm the night before, and consequently had 5 minutes to get up, dressed, and into a seat for his 2-hour morning lecture class.

Never more grateful for having gone to sleep in his clothes, he rocketed up off Rabi’s futon. It only took him a couple of minutes to sling on his jacket, stuff his phone in his pocket, jump into his shoes and grab his backpack and phone charger; then he was out the door running, the apartment door slamming shut behind him.

Rabi lived practically on campus, so running flat-out, Ajay was able to make it from the futon to the lecture hall in only ten minutes total. He slunk inside in panicked shame, taking a seat on the corner in the back row and flinching from the frowning look the professor gave him as he did so.

Usually an interactive, middle-of-the-third-row student, Ajay spent the next hour and 55 minutes quietly taking notes, only looking up to reference the whiteboard and PowerPoint presentation at the front of the class and avoiding eye contact with the professor. He was careful to wait until the professor was entirely finished before packing up and slipping out with the rest of the class.

Or trying to, anyway. “Ajay, can I see you for a moment?”

Ajay swallowed his sudden panic and turned around. “Sure,” he said weakly, making his way down the steps to the main stage of the lecture hall.

The professor spoke to a couple of lingering students first, answering questions and wishing them a good day. Then they departed, leaving only an increasingly anxious Ajay.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted as the professor turned toward him. “I didn’t set my alarm, I thought I had but I didn’t, I know that’s not an excuse but I just wanted you to know that I wasn’t deliberately trying to skip -”

“Ajay,” the professor interrupted him. “You were hardly five minutes late. You know how this class works. I was still in the middle of roll call. You’re fine.”

Ajay winced. “But the attendance policy - ”

“Is worded very strictly, for the benefit of students given to skipping classes or showing up late. Not for students who are usually ten minutes _early_ , with a perfect attendance record.” The professor gave him the look from the beginning of class again, and now that they were closer together, Ajay recognized it as one of concern. “Ajay, if you need someone to talk to, my door is always open.”

“I - I know,” Ajay said weakly. “I just - I don’t have time.”

“Exactly,” the professor said. “You’re a very busy young man, Ajay, and while I applaud you for your excellent grades and time management skills, it is also important that you occasionally take a break. You work extremely hard - both in class and at multiple jobs, from what I understand. If you ever need to just take a day, let me know.” He smiled. “I’m always willing to offer make-ups and alternative projects to exceptional students.”

Ajay laughed a little, at that. “I’m not exceptional,” he muttered. “I’m just - driven. That’s all.”

“Well, then, remind me to never underestimate the power of drive,” the professor said. “Have a good day, son. Buy yourself a coffee.”

“Yes, sir,” Ajay mumbled, and headed out of the hall.

He did not buy himself a coffee - largely because as a part-time barista at the campus coffee cart, he got to order or make himself two drinks for free every 24 hours. Upon learning this fact, Rabi had gone out of his way to align the free time in his schedule with the hours when Ajay was working. Ajay didn’t begrudge him the free drinks; he only really drank dark drip himself, which was fairly cheap, and even then he liked to get it from places like Starbucks. His coworkers teased him about being a brand traitor, but he didn’t mind; he liked the atmosphere of Starbucks, the look of their cups, the lighting and the merchandise. It was also just nice to get his coffee from a place where not everybody knew him.

His shift at the coffee cart was busy, as usual. 11 AM was still considered “early morning” by a significant amount of his fellow students, and a not-insignificant number of staff and faculty as well. But, also as usual, this meant that his shift flew past - three hours in what felt like a matter of minutes.

“Dude, what was up with you this morning?” Rabi asked, leaning against the cart with his free drink as Ajay cleaned up in preparation for the next shift employee. “You booked it outta the apartment like a bat outta hell.”

“Didn’t set my alarm,” Ajay explained. “You kept me up past my bedtime last night.”

Rabi choked on his coffee. “What? We didn’t - I mean, oh, yeah, ‘cause you were at that event being a bouncer or whatever.”

Ajay laughed. “Yeah, well, 'being a bouncer or whatever’ almost resulted in me getting my ass kicked by Vaas and Brody, so you know, thanks for that. If they weren't so into each other I might not have made it to class at all.” He glanced past Rabi, down the hall. “Oh good, here comes Jackson. I gotta head out.”

“Where are you - oh, yeah, the hospital.” Rabi chugged the last of his drink and tossed the empty paper cup into a nearby trashcan. “Tell her hi from me, okay?”

“Yeah, I will,” Ajay murmured, his voice the tired tightness of someone who was overworked and underslept and worried about too many things at once. “Thanks.”

“Hey man, no problem.” Rabi punched him lightly in the arm as he passed. “Call me if you need me, alright? Like if your junker of a car finally breaks down or something.”

Ajay laughed. “Yeah, sure. And how many times has _your_ car broken down?”

“Listen,” Rabi said with dignity, “we don’t talk about that.”

“Yeah, whatever. Don’t you have a class soon?” Ajay asked, pulling out his keys. “Get going.”

* * *

The hospital wasn’t too far from the Kyrat University campus, though whether this was by coincidence or strategy was unknown. After finding a parking spot, Ajay made the hike from his car to the main desk.

“Good afternoon, hon!” the receptionist chirped, visibly brightening at the sight of him. “Just sign in, and I’ve got your visitor’s pass all ready for you. How’s school?”

“School’s good,” Ajay said, offering the older man a smile before leaning over to scribble his name on the sign-in sheet. “Schedule’s a little packed, but I’m keeping my grades up.”

“Good for you!” The receptionist checked the sign-in sheet, then handed Ajay a visitor’s pass badge across the counter. “I’m glad you come to see her, you know. People underestimate how helpful it can be for patients to have visitors, especially if they’re long-term.”

“Yeah, well,” Ajay said, gesturing vaguely with his free hand. “I just hope it _is_ helping.”

The private hospital room was dark, and as quiet as a hospital room could be. Ajay slipped inside, closing the door behind him; despite his best efforts not to disturb the room’s inhabitant, the _click_ of the door closing set her sitting up in bed.

“Ajay!” she exclaimed, reaching out to turn on a lamp. He smiled sheepishly.

“Hey, Mom. How are you doing?”

“About as well as I could be. But I’m much more interested in how _you’re_ doing. The nurses say you’re doing well in school?”

“Yeah,” Ajay said, coming to sit on the edge of her bed. “Oh, speaking of school, Rabi says hi.”

“Oh, Rabi! That’s your loud friend. I like him. Tell him I said hi back.”

Ajay chuckled. “Will do.”

They continued to chat for a while, mundane back-and-forth chatter about their daily lives. Mostly about Ajay’s daily life; Ishwari maintained a relatively redundant schedule of sleeping, eating, and treatment for her illness, with little variation. However, with his multiple part-time jobs on top of classes and general college life, Ajay always had something new to tell her about.

They were in the middle of laughing about how the Min twins had never seen _The Lion King_ when someone knocked on Ishwari’s door.

“Hello?” she called. “Come in!”

The knob turned and the door was pushed gently open, allowing someone Ajay had never seen before to step inside. Normally it wouldn’t have been odd for him not to recognize someone who worked at the hospital, but he was there often enough that he knew all the visiting-hours nurses and doctors. This man was a complete stranger; mid-40s, with a fatherly, handsome face and neatly styled brown hair. He was wearing nice shoes, black dress pants, and a black vest, all carefully coordinated to go with his dress shirt - a startling shade of blood-red against the stark white of his medical coat.

“Good afternoon,” the man said cheerfully. “I’m just stopping by to check up on the place, meet with our longer-term patients and see how you’re doing. Oh, I’m sorry, how rude of me. My name is Paul Harmon.” Crossing the room in a few easy strides, he shook Ishwari’s hand, then Ajay’s. “Good to see someone here so close to the beginning of visiting hours! Most people tend to swing by near the end.”

“Uh-huh,” Ajay said, not sure what to think of him. “Are you a doctor? I haven’t seen you before, so…”

“Yes! Well, no. Sorry, that’s hardly helpful.” Paul quirked up the corner of his mouth in a half-smile that accented the more rugged aspects of his face. “I _am_ a doctor, went to medical school and all that, but I don’t practice medicine anymore. Decided to move on to a bigger, better-paying, higher-stress position.” He shrugged. “It’s not easy being hospital director, but someone’s got to do it.”

Ishwari nudged her son. “There you go, Ajay. That’s your goal. Steal his job.”

Ajay laughed uncomfortably and gave Paul a side glance, only to find the older man staring at him in surprise.

“Ajay?” he asked. “Ajay Ghale?”

“Yes,” Ishwari said proudly before Ajay could answer him. “He’s my son.”

“Well,” Paul said, and this time when he smiled it took up his whole face. “So you’re the one Pagan’s always talking about.”

It was Ajay’s turn to be surprised. “Pagan… Pagan Min? He talks about me?”

“You and the twins,” Paul assured him. “If it’s not one or the other, it’s both. He cannot speak highly enough of you. You might have heard him talk about me; I’m one of his business partners. He knows me by a different name, though. De Pleur? Paul De Pleur?” Ajay shook his head, but the older man didn’t seem bothered. “Ah, well, no matter. Still, color me impressed! You’re the first sitter in a long line to be able to handle those little terrors and their oddities.” Tucking his fingers into his pocket, he pulled out a slim, embossed business card and handed it to Ajay. “If you ever find yourself in need of some extra spending money, do let me know. I have a little girl myself; Ashley, an absolute angel, nowhere near as high maintenance as the Mins, but it is notoriously difficult to find babysitters these days. And of course, you come with the highest recommendations.” He smiled a third time, and this time Ajay smiled back, small and flattered and unsure how to respond.

“Thank you, sir,” he responded faintly. Paul turned his attention to Ishwari.

“Do let me know if there’s anything I can do to make your stay here more comfortable, ma’am. It would be my pleasure.”

“Of course,” Ishwari said politely. It was all she said until he left the room; then, as the door closed behind him, she caught Ajay by the wrist.

“Mom?” he exclaimed, startled. “What is it? Do you need a nurse - ”

“That man,” she began, and then frowned, as if uncertain what to say next. After a moment, she settled on, “Don’t be alone with him.”

“What - why not?” Ajay demanded. “Did he do anything to - ”

“No,” she said immediately. “No, I’ve never seen him before. But I just… something about him reminds me of your father.”

Ajay stiffened, and couldn’t help but think back to Jason Brody’s words from the previous night. _Your dad in the loony bin_.

“He can’t get to us, Mom,” he told her quietly, tugging his wrist out of her hand so that he could lace his fingers in with hers. “You made sure of that.”

She tightened her grip on his hand. “I love you, son.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, watching her eyes drift shut as her latest dose of medication kicked in. “Love you too.”

* * *

His phone rang as he was walking back to his car.

“Ajay, dear boy,” Pagan exclaimed, his voice gushing with relief and underlined sharply with anxiety. “I _hate_ to ask you on such short notice, but I _promised_ the twins we would go to the park today, and now Gary is telling me that I _absolutely cannot_ rearrange my schedule on pain of death in order to do so. I’m not sure who would kill me if I skipped out, the board members or Gary himself, but it is apparently something I have managed to avoid entirely too many times and I will be bound and dragged if necessary - ”

“Mr. Min,” Ajay broke in. “I’d be happy to take the twins to the park. I can watch them for as long as you need me to. I’m done with classes for the day.” He thought briefly of the homework assignments he had planned to spend the afternoon finishing, but then pushed them out of his mind. He could pull an all-nighter if he had to. “Did you have a specific park in mind? Are there any restrictions or rules, or - ”

“Ajay,” Pagan interrupted him, “you are an absolute angel, a gift from Heaven itself, and I trust you implicitly. You could take my children to the zoo, and if they somehow ended up inside of the tiger enclosure I would blame them over you. Mostly because it would absolutely be their fault, I’m sure Sabal would find _some_ way to get in there and Amita would be egging him on. Anyway,” he cut himself off, “enough hypothesizing about my children in life-threatening situations. Gary is trying to take my phone. Just, make sure that Sabal doesn’t get into any - Gary, _no_ , I’m not - ”

The call cut off abruptly. Ajay pulled the phone away from his ear and frowned at it, then redialed Pagan’s number. The call went immediately to voicemail; Gary had apparently turned it off, or destroyed it, which Ajay would not have put past him. He had been working for Pagan long enough to know that he had already been through multiple phones, as a residual effect of them being constantly on his person at all times.

“Okay,” Ajay said to himself uncertainly. “I guess… whatever's fine, then? Sure. Probably.”   

It was a lovely sunny afternoon, and the valet was ready and waiting to park Ajay’s car when he stepped out of it.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she said, with a little more fervor than Ajay was used to being greeted with. “We all are.”

Ajay frowned. “Why, what’s -”

His sentence was interrupted by the crash of shattering glass, followed by the rain-like sound of sharp fragments falling to the gravel flower bed directly beneath the affected window. The thing that had been hurled through the window hit the ground at Ajay’s feet and rolled to a forced halt as he stopped it with his foot.

Bending down, he picked up the item, identifying it as a small but heavy antique bronze pot as he listened to the now-audible commotion from inside the house with half an ear.

“ - _AWFUL!_ He _promised_ he’d take us and you’re trying to  _lie_ to us, he’s _always_ busy, because he  _HATES_ us! Let me _go_ , I _won’t_ stop - ”

Ajay marched up the stairs and flung the door open with, perhaps, slightly more force than was necessary. “Hey,” he barked. “What’s going on? I was coming in when this almost hit me.”

Sabal stared at him in awe from where he was half-hanging from the arms of a long-suffering maid. “A - Ajay? What are you…”

“I heard reports of rebel activity in the area,” Ajay said mildly, hefting the bronze pot in his hand. “But this looks more like rampant vandalism and tantrum-throwing, and I don’t know any rebels in the Golden Path who would be given to that. My rebels,” he said sternly, making eye contact with Sabal, “behave themselves.”

Sabal’s lower lip began to tremble. “D-Daddy was supposed to take us to the park today,” he managed. “And - and he can’t, because he _never_ can.” What was threatening to become tears instead turned to anger, dark eyes flashing with an intensity that was unsettling to see in such a young face. “He doesn’t care about us! All he wants is to tell us what to do and _ruin_ our _lives!”_

Ajay bit his lip and tried to guess at the best way to deal with the situation. Offering sympathy for Pagan had been proven not to work when one or both of the twins were in Sabal’s current mood. There were comments he wanted to make - ones along the lines of _you’re eight, you don’t know what true pain is, not until you have school loans and hospital bills to pay off with money you don’t have_ \- but he bit them back, instead settling for a question.

“Where’s Amita?” Despite their constant banter and fighting, the twins were actually very close, and Ajay rarely saw one without the other.

Sabal scowled. “When _Father_ \- ” Ajay winced inwardly at the targeted formality. _You really  messed up this time, Pagan._ “ - called to tell us he couldn’t make it, she decided to go to an optional after-school activity that we were gonna skip.”

“I see.” Nodding thoughtfully, Ajay moved over to the stairs and sat on one of the bottom steps. By this time, Sabal had been released by the maid, and he sullenly walked over to join his sitter. “Why didn’t you go?”

“It’s archery,” Sabal sneered. Ajay raised an eyebrow at the sight of his lip actually curling in distaste. “I _hate_ archery.”

“Okay. That’s fair.” Ajay stretched his arms up above his head, then brought them back down to interlock his fingers behind his neck. “So, what do you wanna do instead?”

Sabal scowled. “Dunno.”

Ajay hummed. “Seems like a shame. See, I was thinking you and I could go on a special Golden Path mission to the park. But I guess, if you’re not feeling up to it…” He shrugged and started to get up. “I might as well leave. I have plenty of homework to do - ”

His departure was halted by small fingers fisting in his pants leg. “No! I - I mean - I want to. Do the mission.”

Ajay nodded slowly. “Alright. We can still go. But first,” he said mildly, “I think you owe some people an apology.”

“ _Ajaayyyyy_! I _hate_ apologizing!”

“Everyone does,” the college student acknowledged. “But _you_ were the one who was screaming and throwing things when I got here. People are going to have to fix that window because of you. I think the least you can do is say you’re sorry.”

“But I’m NOT.”

“Well, then.” Ajay crossed his arms over his chest and gave his shorter compatriot a disapproving stare. “I guess we won’t be going on a secret mission until you are.”

Giving him a murderous look in return, Sabal crossed his own arms and then directed his gaze to the floor. His lips were pressed tightly together, clearly determined not to let any words out.

Fortunately for Ajay, this was not his first time dealing with a pouting Min twin in the midst of a tantrum. Rather than engage the mutinous child any further, he simply shrugged and adjusted his backpack.

“Fine. You have plenty of people here to keep an eye on you, and I only have time for well-behaved soldiers, not undisciplined brats.” So saying, he turned around and walked back out the door.

He had gotten as far as throwing his backpack in the passenger seat of his car when a dark-haired blur in a designer jacket scrambled in after it. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry. I said I was sorry.”

Ajay turned to look back at the door, confirming the youth’s story with a nod from the victimized maid. “Well. If you apologized…”

“I _did!”_

“And you _meant it_ ,” Ajay continued sternly. Sabal pushed out his lower lip in a pout.

“I did. Promise.”

“Then I suppose,” the college student went on, leaning in to help Sabal buckle his seatbelt, “the secret mission is back on after all.”

* * *

The secret mission took place at a park, though Ajay found himself reluctant to use such a casual term to describe it. “Park” implied a vaguely tamed green space in the depths of an urban jungle, where children could frolic freely and teenagers hurled frisbees around with an unintentionally malicious disregard for bystander safety.

Such a space did not exist within fifteen miles of the exuberantly wealthy neighborhood where the Min residence was located. King’s Bridge Park was as regal as the name made it sound; it was (tastefully) littered with expensive stone statues and fountains, and overseen with militant vigilance by a team of exorbitantly overpaid “landscaping artists.” (Ajay had made the mistake of calling them “gardeners” once - and only once - within earshot.) No leaf or blade of grass was allowed to grow outside of its assigned parameters, and no visitors were allowed to partake in “overly rambunctious activities” that would disturb the other guests or the delicate balance of the carefully cultivated ecosystem.

King’s Bridge Park was frequented by equally well-groomed men and women of varying ages, almost always in couples, occasionally with expensive-looking dogs that had snobbier expressions than any dog had a right to. It was almost entirely void of children, and the children that Ajay had seen in it were all on their best behavior. There was no running, yelling, playing of tag or cops-and-robbers, no climbing trees or turning over rocks or splashing in the fountains or scenic lake. These activities were all against the King’s Bridge Park rules, clearly posted near the entrance to the main gate and in other simultaneously obvious but unobtrusive locations throughout the area.

Ajay was in a rule-breaking mood.

“You see that tree?” He pointed. It was enormous, clearly ancient, built for climbing, the only thing in the garden swathes of the park that had not been groomed to a crisp, modern standard. “We’re gonna climb it.”

Sabal scoffed. Ajay had never heard an 8-year-old scoff before he’d met Sabal. “We can’t climb that tree. We can’t climb anything. It’s against the rules.”

Ajay crouched down, resting his weight on his heels and his chin on his hands as he smiled at Sabal from eye level. “We’re gonna _break_ the rules.”

Sabal’s eyes widened. “ _Ajay!”_ he hissed, looking around wildly as if he expected a King’s Bridge Park SWAT team to come out of nowhere and hurl tear gas grenades at them. “We _can’t_. We’ll - you’ll go to _jail_.”

“I think your dad has expensive enough lawyers that he’ll be able to get me out of serving time for illegal park shenanigans,” Ajay said calmly. “Besides - we only get in _trouble_ if we get _caught_.” He lifted a finger, waved it. “And the Golden Path is too good to get caught. Right?”

Sabal began to grin. It was the grin of a rising adrenaline rush, the sort that could only be instigated by the knowledge that one was about to pursue criminal activities. “ _Right_.”

Ajay climbed the tree first, to show Sabal how it was done. It wasn’t hard; easy enough for a child to do, he thought, with a little help. Shimmying down, he dropped to the grass and grinned.

“See? Easy. Want me to help you up?”

Sabal stared up at the tree. “No. I wanna do it by myself.”

“Okay,” Ajay said encouragingly. “But I’ll be right here if you need me.”

As it turned out, Sabal did need a bit of a boost to get started, but then he was on his way up. After making sure that he knew what he was doing and had a good grip, Ajay turned part of his attention back to the park. There were no gardeners in sight, and the only other park-goers he could see were a couple in the distance, entirely focused on each other.

No - there was someone else, he saw now. A man, standing near the hedge that fenced in the area where the tree was located, too far from the rest of the park and too close to Ajay and Sabal to be doing anything other than watching them. Ajay narrowed his eyes, trying to take in as many details as he could from a distance; something about the man was giving him nasty creepy-crawly vibes up and down his back, and he wanted to be able to describe him to law enforcement if he tried anything. The stranger looked to be somewhere around six feet tall, with slicked-back brown hair and a pair of unpleasant aviator sunglasses.

As Ajay stared at him, the man inclined his head and lowered his sunglasses, making eye contact with the college student. He was far away, but not far enough that Ajay couldn’t see him smile and slowly drop one eye shut in a wink.

“Sabal?” he called, trying to keep his voice calm in the face of the alarm bells that had abruptly begun ringing in his brain. “Hey, it’s time to - we have to go, now.”

“Okay,” Sabal called, sounding distracted. Ajay turned to look up at him just in time to see the boy step down onto a branch that snapped in half the second he put his full weight on it.

Ajay didn’t think, he just moved. He was underneath Sabal almost as soon as he saw the branch crack, ignoring the sting of the hard but glancing blow it hit his shoulder on the way down. He caught Sabal with ease, twisting his hips immediately after the initial impact to send the boy’s legs swinging in a fun semi-circle before he set him back down on the ground.

“Whee,” he managed breathlessly past the pounding of his heart in his throat. Sabal didn’t pick up on the shakiness of his tone at all, giggling wildly and plopping down onto the immaculate green of the King’s Bridge Park grass.

“That was fun! I wanna do it again - ”

“How about no,” Ajay said roughly, then coughed and re-modulated the tone of his voice. “I mean, hey, we should probably get out of here before the gardeners come, right? After all, we broke their tree.”

Sabal’s eyes went wide. Ajay noted with a distant exhaustion that this seemed to frighten the boy more than falling from the tree had.

“Oh, _no_ ,” he exclaimed, scrambling to his feet and grabbing Ajay’s sleeve. “Ajay, come on, we gotta go!”

“That’s what I’ve been - right, okay,” Ajay muttered, submitting to the young boy’s panicked yanking on his shirt. As he followed Sabal across the park, he threw a glance back in the direction of where he’d seen the man in the sunglasses earlier. He was no longer there - but for some reason. Ajay didn’t feel any better about that.

* * *

Ajay’s plan was to just drop Sabal off and then go straight back to campus for some studying, but he had barely rolled to a halt before the door to the Min house had burst open and Amita came barreling out, yelling something at the top of her lungs.

Ajay hastened to unbuckle his seatbelt, grimacing at the twinge it caused his arm, and shoved open his door. “Amita, what? What is it - ”

“YOU’RE IN TROUBLE!” she shrieked, looking delighted. The words were aimed at Sabal, his twin sister prancing around him as he stepped out of Ajay’s car. “You’re in _trooouble_ , oh you’re gonna _get it!”_

Ajay rolled his eyes. “Amita, what are you talking about?” he asked. “Sabal’s not - ”

He became aware of the sound of approaching footsteps at the same time as their owner grabbed him by the front of his shirt and shoved him into his car door, effectively slamming it shut. His arm burst into a flare of pain, much worse and sharper than it had been up to that point; before he could cry out, his attacker pulled him forward and twisted him around, yanking his arms up behind his back and pressing him into the hard metal surface of the vehicle.

“ _Nǐ shi shéi?”_ they snarled. He registered the voice as being female, and after a moment, the language as Mandarin Chinese; not that he spoke the language, but he had heard Pagan on calls speaking it before. The man had kindly explained what the language was after the fact, which was how Ajay had learned that the twins not only spoke English and Mandarin, but at least three other languages, including Latin.

“I don’t – what - ” he managed. This was not what the strange woman wanted to hear; she repeated her question and jerked his arms further up his back. This time Ajay did cry out, though it was closer to a scream than he would have liked to admit. Whatever the tree branch had done to his arm, this was making it much, much worse.

It didn’t help that the twins had started screaming as well, though this time in Mandarin. Past the sudden agony in his arm, the rush of threatening Chinese, and the twins yelling, Ajay heard someone snap,

“Yuma, _nǐ zài gàn ma?!”_

“ _Daddy_ ,” the twins shrieked in unison. The woman released Ajay from her grasp, though not without giving him a final hard shove into his car. Trying to ignore the sharp throbbing lacerating through his arm and shoulder, Ajay turned weakly around.

The woman was storming across the cobblestones of the Min manor courtyard to meet Pagan, who was approaching from his car with equal vigor. He had clearly just returned from the office, and gotten out of his vehicle in a hurry; the rear door was still hanging open as the flustered chauffeur rushed around to close it.

“Dear _God_ , Yuma, what the hell were you doing?” Ajay heard him snap. Yuma didn’t let him get much further than that, unleashing an aggressive stream of Mandarin as she stabbed her index finger into the chest of his immaculately pressed suit. Pagan looked mildly affronted for a moment, then promptly interrupted her, giving just as good as he was getting with the same speed and vehemence. Ajay watched them in a daze; they looked nothing like each other. Yuma was shorter than Pagan, with darker coloring and vivid black-and-pink hair, but they looked _right_ together, clearly related by bond if not by blood.

“Ajay, are you okay?” Amita bleated anxiously, hugging herself to his leg. Laughing weakly, Ajay dropped a hand down to stroke the top of her neatly braided hair.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he lied. “So, that’s, uh… that’s your Aunt Yuma?”

Sabal clustered in on Ajay’s other side, unwilling to let his sister have all the attention. “We _told_ you she was scary,” he said dolefully, glaring across the courtyard at where their relatives were still arguing. Amita reached around Ajay with her foot to kick at her brother’s shins.

“She’s not _scary!_ She’s a strong and interdependent woman who loves us very much!”

“Independent,” Ajay corrected her automatically. “And yes, Amita, I’m sure she does. It’s not every aunt who would take such an, uh, _aggressive_ approach towards seeing a stranger with her nephew.”

“She’s a private security consultant,” Amita glowed. “She gets hired by lots of prisons. Big prisons. Prisons where they keep _serial killers_.”

“Prisons where people go to and they don’t come back out,” Sabal said seriously. “I don’t think the government knows about them.”

“Okay, that’s above my pay grade and your age level,” Ajay said pointedly. “Anyway, why is Sabal in trouble?”

“What?” Amita asked, frowning in confusion. Then it turned into a grin. “Oh, cause he broke the window!”

“Daddy breaks things all the time and it’s fine,” Sabal retorted. The two of them started to scuffle, but Ajay planted a hand firmly on each of their heads and kept them in place on either side of him.

“Your father can break whatever he wants because it’s his house and his stuff,” he said. “When you grow up and own your own house, you can do whatever you want and break whatever you want in it. But until then, actions have consequences. That’s good, you know. A lot of kids as rich as you two get to do whatever they want, and then they grow up terrible and spoiled and no one wants to hang out with them.”

“Wow,” Sabal said. “Really?”

“Ajay, do you know someone like that?” Amita asked. He thought briefly of Jason Brody.

“No,” he said firmly. “They’re the type of person you should absolutely try to avoid in your life. Oh, hi, Mr. Min,” he said as the two adults finally approached. “Sorry, I was just - ”

“Do _not_ apologize,” Pagan seethed. “Yuma! What do we say after _bodyslamming_ the dearest friend and companion of my family against his own vehicle for no good reason whatsoever?”

Before Ajay could even get out a “no apology necessary,” the woman spat something in Mandarin at him, grabbed the twins by the wrists, and marched into the house. Pagan groaned, crossing an arm over his chest and pinching the bridge of his nose between long, elegant pianists’ fingers. Not for the first time, Ajay noticed his wedding ring: a simple matte gold band, amusingly lacking in ostentatiousness given the man’s constant flair for the dramatic.

“My God, Ajay, I am _so_ sorry. I mean, for her, of course – it feels like I spend half my life apologizing for Yuma. But for ruining your afternoon as well. I’m sure you had plenty of other things you would rather have been doing than looking after my hellion children, whom I do love dearly, but it has been brought to my attention that Sabal _threw_ a _very_ expensive pot from a _particularly_ rare collection through a _window_ \- ”

Ajay held up a hand, laughing. “Sir, no, really, it’s fine. I get it, they’re eight and you’re busy. If it would have been a hassle to come, I would have told you so. But my schedule was clear and I love spending time with them.” He changed the subject before Pagan could apologize again. “How was your, uh, board meeting?”

The handsome older man fixed him with a serious stare. “Ajay. Dear boy. _Never_ go into upper management. _Certainly_ do _not_ run a business empire. Do not even _think_ about it. It is _entirely_ not worth it. I never knew people to take so long discussing insignificant details about the tiniest issues, but my God if it can be nitpicked, they will. _Three hours_ , and I wanted to stab everyone in the room and then myself within the first fifteen minutes. I _pay_ people so that I do not _have_ to attend these meetings, but _apparently_ I’m not paying them _enough_. And of course I can’t send my body double, because my ‘personal input is required,’ whatever _that_ means. I mostly just nod and drink coffee and wish it were top-shelf vodka with every fiber of my blindingly bored being.”

“Oh,” Ajay said faintly. “Uh. At least… you’re rich?”

“God,” Pagan said feelingly, lifting his gaze from Ajay’s to look out over his head at the enormous house looming over them both. “At least I’m that.”

He sounded miserable. He _looked_ miserable. Ajay could sympathize; not with the pain of being wealthy, since having enough money would have solved a significant number of his personal problems, but at least with being lonely. Pagan Min was many things to many people; at the end of the day, though, he was first and foremost a loving father to his children. That was something Ajay could appreciate.

“Well, I should go,” he said, segueing awkwardly into the subject of his departure. Pagan groaned dramatically.

“My _least_ favorite part of every interaction we have. Can’t you just stay? It’s not as if I don’t have the space. What will it take? You’ll have your own room, a private bathroom. A spa tub. Hell, I’ll get you a _valet_.”

Ajay offered his usual nervous laugh. “Thanks for the offer, Mr. Min - ”

“ _Pagan!_ Call me Pagan! God, please, I hear ‘Mr. Min’ uttered with every tone from irritation to fear all day. I don’t need it from you too.”

Ajay made a noncommittal noise. “I really have to go, sir. I have homework.”

“Ugh, fine.” The older man threw his hands into the air in an exaggerated gesture of defeat. “Go pursue your higher education. And dear boy, I do apologize again for the inconvenience of today. I’ m afraid I’m fresh out of cash, but will direct deposit do?”

“Sure,” Ajay said, trying to keep how tired he was out of his voice. “I’ll text you my account number.”

“Excellent. And Ajay?” Pagan said plaintively. “Drive safely.”

Ajay smiled. “Thank you, sir.”

* * *

Ajay pulled into Chotu and Rabi’s driveway, getting out his phone as soon as he was parked. His E-mail notification had gone off while he’d been driving, and he had been expecting several important communications from professors. He was pleased to see that this was one of them – group assignments for the big project in one of his advanced classes. It was worth 35 percent of his grade, so he was very interested to see who he was paired with.

Swiping across on the notification, he waited patiently for his phone to connect with Rabi’s wi-fi and open the E-mail app. Finally, it did, even opening onto the exact message he’d wanted to read.

“To all students,” Ajay muttered. “Blah blah… class assignments, stuff for people who didn’t read the syllabus, whatever, whatever, why do you always make us scroll for 18 years, _aha_! Group One, Group Two… Group Five… Group Six, really? Those two together? They’re never going to get anything done. Oh, here we go, Group Ten! Ajay and - ”

He broke off with a strangled noise, slumping back in his seat.

“Oh, shit,” he said weakly. Then once more, with feeling: “ _Shit_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, and stay tuned! I'm going to try to update on Saturdays. It's ambitious with my current schedule but I've got a Lot that's gonna happen in this fic and if I don't write it, no one will
> 
> See opening notes re: my attempt @ Mandarin Chinese. also any comments are always appreciated, but I'd love to start a trend of "IN THE NEXT EPISODE" conspiracy theories. whomst is Ajay paired up with for his project????? send in your votes now!!


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